Nights of Crimson
by Oblivion's Edge
Summary: Old scars don't heal easily, some can remain for a lifetime. But knowing there is someone to share the pain with can make things at least a little more bearable. No matter how unlikely the company. After all, what do Daedra know about cheering up mortals? -Oneshot


A/N: Been a while. Here's a story I had on my mind for over a year and then spontaneously decided to write it down in the last two nights. It features my first three Skyrim characters (Morgan came much later). In order, my first and main Skyrim character Basteana the Khajiit, then Dragmoor the Argonian with whom I never did much, and finally Exandrenor the Dremora who originates from the time I discovered console commands, fun times.  
This story here kinda starts off in the middle of action, I plan to write another one which will introduce the characters properly. No clue when I'll write that though, so I figured I might as well post this as my account is empty as it is. Also, slightly different formatting in this one, I'm still experimenting with it.  
And yes, Exan is from Apocrypha, I know it's not the most accurate lore wise, but I have a reason for it and will try to explain it in the other story.

Disclaimer: Characters are mine, Skyrim etc. belongs to Bethesda.

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There was an eeriness to Nirn's nights, despite the beauty of the myriad of stars as well as the two shining moons. Peering into the pitch black woods during those dead silent hours was enough to keep Exandrenor alert. It was his turn for keeping watch as his companions rested, he didn't mind too much, but he was getting tired himself. He never really understood the true comfort of sleep before he got stuck in this state of being at least half mortal.  
A rustling around the camp made him instinctively reach for his blade, yet once he located the source of the noise his posture relaxed again. He watched as Basteana stumbled off into the bushes, most likely going to answer nature's call. Leaning back against the tree behind him, he continued keeping watch of their surroundings. It wasn't until a good ten minutes later that he grew concerned about the Khajiit's absence. It could have been nothing, but with wolves, bandits and vampires around, he'd rather not risk waiting any longer. He walked over to the still sleeping Argonian and carefully shook him awake.

"What is it? Enemies?" Dragmoor hissed quietly, trying to clear his senses.

Exandrenor shook his head before replying. "Basteana wandered off and has been gone for a while. I'm worried she might be in trouble."

"The cat's gone? Oh..." Dragmoor's expression turned somber.

"What?"

"She... Does that sometimes. It's not good." Dragmoor looked at the Khajiit's empty bed, seeming to consider something before turning to the Dremora to speak again. "Go look for her, she should not be alone now."

Exandrenor was about to ask what exactly was wrong, but figured that he would find out soon enough. So he made his way to track down their missing companion, judging by the direction she took it seems she headed for the nearby creek. As he was getting closer to his destination Exandrenor began hearing the sound of splashing water. There was no way she was taking a bath at this hour, it would be more than stupid. The sound was off though, way too frantic, for a moment he feared she might have stumbled upon slaughterfish or mudcrabs. Yet once the stream was finally in sight he saw Basteana kneeling by it, continuously splashing water on her face and mumbling to herself. He approached her, sure that his stride made enough noise for her to notice him, yet she still seemed way too absorbed in her ridiculous late night face wash.

"Basteana." He received no signs of acknowledgement. She just kept splashing water on her face and arms.

"It's everywhere, everywhere!... Get it off! Stop!... Please... Make it stop..." She mumbled on.

Now that he could hear what she was saying he grew even more confused and worried. "Basteana, what are you doing?" He placed a hand on her shoulder but she quickly shook it off, becoming more panicked with her splashing.

"It won't stop... It won't stop. It won't stop. It won't stop! It won't stop!" She was screaming now, water flying everywhere.

"Basteana, calm down!" He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her away from the water, turning her around to look at her face. "What's wrong?"

Now she was frozen in place, her fur drenched and dripping, breathing slowly calming as her eyes seemed to finally focus on him. "Exan... What..." She sounded surprised, as if she did not expect him to be here.

"From what I can tell, you just spent the last fifteen minutes splashing water around like a little child. What has gotten into you? You could have easily given away our position, you didn't even hear me call you, any bandit could have killed you with ease! What in Oblivion's name made you come out here tonight and-" He cut off his rant when he realized the wetness in her eyes was not from the stream. Was she crying?

He got that answer a moment later as she pressed her head against his chest, tightly clutching his armor and started full on sobbing. This was quickly turning into one of the strangest nights of his life. Frankly, he had no clue what to do now, Apocrypha might be a realm of vast knowledge but that doesn't mean he ever learned how to comfort mortals, or anyone at all. He really did not want to be in this position now, but even less did he want to see Basteana like this, it just felt wrong seeing the usually so upbeat girl crying. He hesitantly embraced her, petting her hair with one hand to try and calm her down. He could vaguely recall seeing parents do this to comfort their children, perhaps it could work in this case too. The sobbing eventually died down, but Basteana did not let go of him. Feeling kinda awkward in this position he carefully sat down, allowing her to sit across his lap, making both of them a little more comfortable.

"Nightmare." She said after a few moments of silence.

"I didn't think a nightmare could do something like this to you." He kept petting her hair as it seemed to really help calming her.

"I can handle most nightmares. But not those..." She shuddered just at the thought.

"What are 'those' nightmares about?" He inquired.

Yet again she went quiet and remained so for a while, he even began to believe she might have fallen asleep. Then she whispered, as if ashamed, or afraid of the word itself.

"Bloodyfur."

That answered why these particular nightmares were affecting her worse than others. But there was still one thing he didn't understand.

"What were you trying to do at the creek?"

"... The nightmares always start as pleasant dreams. I'm playing with some children, having a meal with my family, or just picking flowers in a meadow. But then my markings just start bleeding, and they won't stop, no matter what I do they won't stop bleeding. It pools all around me, it turns into a sea and it feels like I'm gonna drown in it." She sobbed once more. "I just had to get it off, get it all off."

He sighed, he knew that her past was still painful for her, but he didn't know she felt this haunted by it. And yet here she was, crying in his arms from wounds so old yet so vicious.

"Basteana." He gently called her name and finally she looked up at him, tears still running down her cheeks. "Your markings are just that, markings, they won't just randomly start bleeding. And the people from your village were imbeciles if they thought something like an unusual coloration would be a curse. So stop crying, it does not suit you."

He was not the most tactful when it came to things like that, but it seemed to work at least a little as she finally smiled.

"Thank you." She whispered before hugging him tightly.

Although he was not exactly one for contact like this, he has kinda gotten used to her random spurs of unnecessary affection. Not to mention, she really seemed to need it right now. So they remained like this for a few minutes, until he felt her relaxing against him more. And just like that she was asleep. One thing was for sure, she was one of the strangest beings he's ever encountered, and that comes from someone who spent his whole life with Seekers. He picked her up and carried her back to camp, after all this he could not wait to get some sleep himself.  
Once there he found the old Argonian still up and waiting for them.

"How is she? ... Wait, is she asleep?" Dragmoor asked, apparently confused.

"Seems all the crying tired her out." Exandrenor replied as he was attempting to lay her down on her bed. Which was becoming increasingly hard as she refused to let go of him, despite being out cold.

"Curious. She often has nightmares about her past, never got her to sleep afterwards though. Usually she's just too unsettled to get anymore sleep during those nights. I wonder how you managed that." And yet the Argonian seemed rather pleased with that information.

"No clue." Exandrenor grumbled.

He was busy prying Basteana's claws off his armor, not to mention he still had to keep watch after all this, and he was not looking forward to that. It wasn't until he finally got the cat to let go of him that Dragmoor spoke again.

"Know what, you can go rest, I'll keep watch for the rest of the night." Leaving no room for objections, Dragmoor stood up and walked away to take his place as watch by the tree.

Exandrenor was too tired to refuse the offer anyway, he was about to go to his own resting place when he heard a whine from the still sleeping Khajiit. Her sleep did not seem too peaceful. With another sigh he decided he was not up for having another adventure at the creek, so instead he laid down next to her. Immediately she was back to clinging to him, and he couldn't help but chuckle. A very strange person indeed. He finally closed his eyes and let his mind drift off into well deserved rest


End file.
